Spiritus Leonis
by LostInWonderland72
Summary: Written for a prompt challenge. Ten moments in the lives of the Pevensies, Aslan's chosen.


**A/N: **So, this was written as a prompt challenge from WillowDryad. She, OldFashionedGirl95 and Laura Andrews have all also done it, as we thought it would be interesting to see what each of us came up with for the same words. Please go and check out theirs too :) Also-a little shameless self-publication-if anyone enjoys these, I've got a longer series of prompted drabbles entitled 'All The Loose Threads.'

Spiritus Leonis is Latin for 'Breath of the Lion.'

Please review, I'd love to know what you think :)

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**#1 Bonus**

Peter fought for many things at Beruna-Aslan's memory, the oppressed Narnians, the soldiers who trusted him to lead and died in his service, seeing his sisters' smiles again, justifying his brother's belief in him, the age-old clash of good versus evil –but not one of them was his own right to the throne.

**#2 Judgement**

Edmund, as a young child, had often been told that he was an excellent judge of character. Now chained in the Witch's icy dungeon, starving, freezing and terrified for the lives of his family, he can't help but give a bitter, joyless smile for irony's sake, on the severe lack of judgement that landed him here.

**#3 Grammar**

They scoffed and whined about the endless lessons in Narnian syntax, until the day they stood and looked out over a devastated village that had been legally burned to the ground by the Remnant Followers of the Witch through an accidental loophole in a recently passed law.

**#4 Nappy**

When Susan visits Anvard to see the new baby princes, she is surprised to find half a dozen nursemaids fussing over the boys and the Queen sat unhappily at the edge of the room, watching the busy, cooing women with longing in her face. Susan smiles, has her dismiss the bustling maids, and begins with a practised ease to teach her to change a nappy.

**#5 Shilly-shally**

Edmund has a new edict to look over. Peter has a letter to draft to the Tisroc. Susan has yet another suit to refuse, Lucy has a heavy volume on Dwarf etiquette to familiarise herself with. There are a hundred things each should be doing, and none of them is lounging on the grass as the sun sets hazily over the Western Woods.

"It's not at all proper to procrastinate over royal duties," Edmund drawls.

Peter gives a grin as golden and lazy as the evening itself, and pours Edmund the last of the summer wine.

**#6 Stray**

Edmund knows that he has strayed far indeed from the person he once was, and his family's fold and the happiness that once was his. He has felt the chill of winter in his heart, and the blindness of jealousy and the desire for power and the bitterness of betrayal, and he has felt the numbing sting of terror and the raw, aching hole of guilt. But then he feels Peter's arms, warm and strong about him, and Susan's soft kisses on his cheeks and Lucy's laughter bright in his ears, and he knows that he is finally home.

**#7 Bunny**

"Please, Peter? Please, please, _please _may I keep him?"

"I don't know, Lu..."

Peter heaved a sigh as Lucy cuddled the small animal to her chest, her bright blue eyes huge and beseeching, glittering with unshed tears, the smallest pout forming adorably on her lips, and he knew he was lost.

"Fine."

"Thanks, Peter!"

**#8 Expressionist**

"But Majesty, what _is _it?"

Mr Tumnus cocked his head to one side and squinted hard at the messy canvas. Edmund glared.

"I told you. It's the _Splendour Hyaline _in port."

Mr Tumnus looked dubious. "With all due respect, sire, it doesn't look like the _Hyaline._"

"It's an expressionist painting!"

**#9 Cursive**

As the sun rises bleak on the first day of Peter's fourth gruelling month on campaign, he can't help but smile when an officer presents him with three battered letters, each addressed to him, the first in Lucy's simple, bouncy handwriting, the second in Edmund's military scrawl, and the third in Susan's elegant, looping cursive.

**#10 Contrite**

Every so often, Lucy would arrive at lunch half an hour late, with her dress torn to ribbons, dirt crusted under her fingernails, little red scratches adorning her arms where thorns had snatched at her, and her lips stained red with berry juice. With not a hint of contrition for her lateness or state of dress, she would set a small basket of freshly picked forest fruits on the table with a beaming smile, and somehow, her siblings could never find it in themselves to berate her.

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**A/N: **Some of those were pretty hard! I hope you enjoyed it. Please review, and remember to have a look at WillowDryad, OldFashionedGirl95 and Laura Andrews's versions :)


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